


Crux Ansata

by KnightwingYJ



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightwingYJ/pseuds/KnightwingYJ
Summary: The journey of a thousand lives, begins with a single choice.





	1. Traitor in Our Midst

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an AU, but I am going to stick as close to cannon as possible. Obviously things are going to change. I don' own Assassin's Creed nor Robin Hood BBC. There are spoilers for both the games and the show. Warnings will appear with each chapter.

Battle of Arsuf

Arsuf Plains, Ayyubid Dynasty

September 1191

 

                “It’s done then. Your schemes, like you, are put to rest.”

                “You know nothing of schemes. You are but a puppet. He betrayed you boy. Just as he betrayed me.”

                “Speak sense Templar or not at all.”

                “Nine men he sent you to kill, yes? The nine who guarded the treasure’s secret.”

                “What of it?”

                “It wasn’t nine that found the treasure, assassin. Not nine, but ten.”

                “A tenth? None may live who carry the secret. Give me his name.”

                “Oh, but you know it well and I doubt very much you’d take his life a willingly as you’ve taken mine.”

                “Who?!”

                “It is your master, Al Mualim.”

                “But he is not a Templar!”

                “Did you never wonder how it is he knew so much? Where to find us? How many we numbered? What we aspired to obtain?”

                “He is the master of the Assassins!”

                “Oui, master of lies. You and I are just two more pawns in his game. And now, with my death, only you remain. Do you think he will let you live, knowing what you do?”

                “I have no interest in the treasure.”

                “Ah, but he does. The only difference between your master and I is that he did not want to share.”

                “No.”

                “Ironic, isn’t it? That I, your greatest enemy, kept you safe from harm. But now you’ve taken my life and in the process, ended your own.”

* * *

                Altair stood before the king of the crusaders, waiting for him to pass judgement. Robert de Sable’s lifeless body lying at his feet. He was shocked by the Templar’s last word, but also saddened. To hear that the man, who was very much a father figure, had allied himself with the people they fought so hard against, tore at his heart.

                The king stepped forward and gazed down at the man who had been his lieutenant. He returned his gaze to the man in white. “Well fought assassin. It seems God favors your cause this day.”

                 “God had nothing to do with it.” Altair replied. “I was the better fighter.”

                “Ah, you may not believe in him, but it seems he believes in you.” Richard said with a smile. “Before you go, I have a question.”

                “Ask it then.”

                “Why? Why travel all this way, risk your life a thousand times, all to kill a single man?”

                Altair paused a moment before speaking. “He threated my brothers and all that we stand for.”

                “Ah, vengeance then.”

                “No, not vengeance. Justice, that there might be peace.”

                “This is what you fight for, peace?” Richard sneered. “Do you see the contradiction?”

                “Some men cannot be reasoned with.” Altair explained.

                “Like that mad man, Saladin.”

                “I think he’d like to see an end to this war as much as you.”

                “So, I’ve heard,” Richard say waving the suggestion away, “but never seen.”

                “Even if he doesn’t say it, it’s what the people want. Saracen and Crusader alike.”

                “The people know not what they want. It’s why they turn to men like us.”

                “Then it falls to men like you to do what is right.”

                “Ha, nonsense. We come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. It is what we are. We cannot help ourselves.”

                “No, we are what we chose to be.”

                Richard let out a humorless chuckle. “Your kind, always playing with words.”

                “I speak the truth. There’s no trick to be found here.”

                “We’ll know soon enough, but I fear you cannot have what you desire this day. Even now, that heathen, Saladin, cuts through my men and I must attend to them. But, perhaps, having seen how vulnerable he is, he will reconsider his actions.” Richard contemplated. “Yes, in time, what you seek may be possible.”

                “You are no more secure than him. Do not forget that.” Altair warned. “The men you left behind to rule in your stead did not intend to serve you for longer than they had to.”

                “Yes, yes. I am well aware.”

                “Then I will take my leave. My master and I have much to discuss. It seems that not even he is without fault.”

                “He is only human, as are we all. You as well.”

                “Safety and peace be upon you.” Altair said inclining his head to the foreign king. The two men turned away from each other when another stood before the assassin.

                Altair tensed at his sudden appearance but saw no deception in him. “What is it that you want?” he asked.

                “Only information,” he said. “I want to know the truth behind Robert’s treachery.”

                “Why, he is dead?”

                “Yes, but death does not reveal the truth. I have been suspicious of him for some time and I wish to lay those suspicions to rest.”

                Altair looked at the man. He had no reason to give this man anything, yet something in him told him to trust him. “What is your name?”

                “Robin of Locksley. I am the captain to the king’s personal guard.”

                Altair nodded once. “Very well, Robin Locksley. Go to Jerusalem and seek out a man by the name of Malik Al-Sayf. Tell him that Altair Ibn-La’Ahad sent you. He’ll tell you what you wish to know.”

                “Thank you.”

                “Do not thank me crusader. For the truth is never easy to bear.”

                Robin Locksley nodded and turned away. Altair watched him for a moment before heading back the way he came. It was time he returned to Masyaf.

* * *

Masyaf, Syria

September 1191

                Altair cried out as he was once again bound by the Apple’s power. He was getting tired of this charade. Pain coursed through his body, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was stopping Al Mualim. “Face me!” He commanded. “Or are you afraid?”

                “I have stood before a thousand men, all of them superior to you and all of them dead by my hand! I am not afraid.” Al Mualim declared.

                “Prove it.”

                Al Mualim strode down the steps of the garden, his sword in one hand and the Apple in the other. “What could I possibly fear. Look at the power I command.” He gloated.

                Altair watched in horror as his master began to glow and duplicates of his form stepped out from his body. They surrounded Altair. The Apple finally released him and the duplicates attacked. There were many of them, all with his master’s looks and skill. He didn’t know which of them was the real Al Mualim. As he reduced their numbers, they soon disappeared and he was once again bound. Al Mualim paced before him.

                “Have you any final words?” Al Mualim asked.

                “You lied to me!” Altair spat. “Called Robert’s goal foul when all along it was yours as well.”

                “I’ve never been much good at sharing.” His master taunted.

                “You won’t succeed. Others will find the strength to stand against you.”

                Al Mualim sighed. “And this is why so long as men maintain free will, there can be no peace.”

                “I killed the last man who spoke as such.” Altair threatened.

                “Bold words, boy!” The traitor sneered. “But just words.”

                “Then let me go. I’ll put words into action.”

                Al Mualim laughed.

                “Tell me, _master_ ,” mocked Altair. “Why did you not make me like the other assassins? Why allow me to retain my mind?”

                “Who you are and what you do are twined to tight together. To rob you of one would have deprived me of the other and those Templars had to die.” Al Mualim sighed. “But the truth is, I did try. In my study, when I showed you the treasure, but you are not like the others. You saw through the illusion.” He explained.

                “Illusion?” Altair asked puzzled.

                “That’s all it’s ever done, this Templar treasure. This Piece of Eden. This Word of God. Do you understand now? The Red Sea was never parted. Water never turned to wine. It was not the machination of Eris that spawned the Trojan War, but this! Illusions! All of them!”

                “What you plan is no less an illusion. To force men to follow you against their will.”

                “Is it any less real than the phantoms the Saracens and the Crusaders follow now? Those craven gods who retreat from this world that men might slaughter one another in their names?! They live amongst an illusion already. I’m simply giving them another. One that demands less blood.”

                “At least they choose these phantoms.”

                “Oh, do they?” Al Mualim questioned. “Aside from the occasional convert or heretic?”

                “It Isn’t right.” Altair growled.

                “Ah, and now logic has left you. In its place, you embrace emotion. I am disappointed.”

                “What’s to be done then?”

                “You will not follow me and I cannot compel you.”

                “And you refuse to give up this evil scheme!”

                “It seems that we are at an impasse.”

                “No, we are at an end.”

                “I will miss you Altair.” Al Mualim said almost seeming sincere. “You were my very best student.” He got into a fighting stance as the Apple released its hold and Altair drew his sword. They traded blows for a moment before Al Mualim disappeared. Altair blinked in surprise.

                “Blind, Altair.” Al Mualim spoke. His voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. “Blind is all you have ever been. All you will ever be.”

                Altair searched the gardens for his master. His own eagle vision didn’t seem to be much help to him. He soon found Al Mualim at the edge of the garden, glowing with the Apple’s power. They engaged again and once again Al Mualim disappeared, laughing.

                Their swords crossed. “My blade sees for me, Al Mualim. It cuts through the darkness.” Altair stated.

                Al Mualim disappeared again but Altair noticed something. His master was tiring. Never mind that his age slowed him but it seemed using the Apple drained him. Altair smirked. He could finally end this. He moved quickly, disarming Al Mualim and knocking him to the ground. Altair lunged and sank his hidden blade into his master’s flesh.

                He pulled the blade from his body and cradled his head. The Apple slipped from Al Mualim’s fingers and rolled away. He weakly reached for it.

                “Impossible, the student does not defeat the teacher.” He said breathless.

                Altair spoke the Creed’s maxim in the ancient language.

                “So, it seems. You have won then.” Al Mualim said resigning to his fate. “Go and claim your prize.”

                “You held fire in your hand old man. It should have been destroyed.”

                “Destroy the only thing capable of ending the crusades and creating true peace? Never.”

                “Then I will.” Altair promised but Al Mualim just smiled.

                “We’ll see about that.” And with those words, Rashid ad-Din Sinan, Al Mualim, died.

                Altair knelt there for a moment as he held his master’s body. Sorrow filled his heart. Oh, how he wished this hadn’t happened! But it did and nothing could change that now. He gently closed Rashid’s eyes and stood, every wound and muscle protesting. He moved slowly to where the Apple lay, innocently glowing. To think that something so small could cause so much pain and suffering. The voice of Rashid spoke in his mind, a memory long since passed.

                _“I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also was a casing of the wind. For in much wisdom, is much grief. And he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.”_

                As he approached the Apple, it began to glow and Altair tensed, weary of what it might do next. It projected a picture of a sphere containing strange marking on its surface, into the air above him. Altair gazed at it in awe. Rashid’s voice returned to him, taunting him. _“Destroy it. Destroy it as you said you would.”_

                “I-I can’t.” Altair whispered.

                _“Yes, you can Altair, but you won’t”_

                Footsteps sounded behind him but Altair didn’t need to see to know who it was. Malik and two of his men stood next to him and stared at the globe. “What is it?” Malik asked softly.

                Altair was silent for a moment as the light from the Apple sparkled in his eyes. “The world.” He whispered before his vision grew dark and he knew no more.

 


	2. An Order Divided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Assassin's Creed: Revelations.

Masyaf, Syria

September 1191

                As consciousness returned, the first thing he felt was pain. Altair held back a groan as his eyes opened. He took in the familiar sight of his chambers and he rose slowly. The door opened and a young novice entered. “It is good to see you awake, Master Altair.” He spoke.

                “What has happened?”

                “After you defeated Al Mualim, you collapsed. Others brought you here and a healer treated your wounds.”

                “And what of the others?”

                “Many of the brethren are confused. They do not true understand what had possessed their minds. Those who were wounded in the battle have been treated and those whose lives have been lost have been numbered.”

                “How many?” Altair asked solemnly.

                “Twenty.”

                Altair bowed his head. These lives should have never been lost. After a few moments, he looked back to the novice. “What is your name?” 

                “Daq.”

                “Daq, do you know what has become of Malik?” Altair inquired.

                “Word is that he rode to Jerusalem to inform the bureaus of Al Mualim’s treachery. He should return within a day.”

                “Very good, inform me the moment he arrives. Also, have the other novices construct a funeral pyre down by the cliffs.”

                “Yes, Altair.” Daq bowed and rushed off to fill his order.

                Altair made his way through the corridors until he reached Al Mualim’s office and his eyes zeroed in on the object resting on the desk. The Apple of Eden looked so harmless without it’s golden glow and to many of the brethren, it is, now that it is no longer in the hands that would abuse it. But Altair knew better. As long as an object that possessed such power existed, there would always be those that lusted after it.

                He hesitantly picked it up. It reacted to his touch, glowing faintly but did nothing further. How could something so small, cause so much devastation? How many have died in the name of it? It should be destroyed. Altair’s fingers tightened around it, in the slight hope that it might shatter in his hand, but it remained unblemished. He let out a heavy sigh. As much as he wished it gone, he wouldn’t destroy it. The knowledge contained within could be used to benefit the order. He pulled open a drawer of the desk and placed the Apple inside, locking it. He will return to if once his deed was finished.

                Altair descended the stairs and slowed at what he saw. Al Mualim’s body lay in the center of the room, still clothed in his mentor robes. Altair’s mind flashed back to their recent battle.

                _“You held fire in your hand, old man. It should have been destroyed.”_

_“Destroy the only thing capable of ending the crusades and creating true peace? Never.”_

                “Forgive me for this Mentor, but the Apple corrupted you. And through you, it would have corrupted us. For us to live, you had to die.” Altair whispered to the memory. He gazed down one last time at the man who had taught him everything, when he heard footsteps approaching.

                “Is it truly over? Is that sorcerer dead?” And assassin captain asked, hesitant to come closer.

                “He was no sorcerer. Just an ordinary man in command of illusions.” Altair replied before turning to his companion. “Have you prepared the pyre?”

                “I have, but… Altair… some of the men will not stand for such a thing.”

                “Let me handle it.” Altair bent down and lifted the body of his mentor into his arms. His injuries protested at the added weight but he thought nothing of it. “Are you fit to travel?” he asked the captain.

                “Well enough, yes.” The captain nodded.

                “I asked Malik to ride to Jerusalem with the news of Al Mualim’s death. Would you ride to Acre and do the same?”

                “Of course.”

                 As he began moving, the villagers that had gathered outside the castle parted like the Red Sea. Their faces confused and fearful as they watched the body of the man who had enslaved their minds be carried form the keep.

                “So much confusion…”

                “What has happened?”

                “My mind was clear, but my body, it would not move.”

                “Was our mentor the cause of all this confusion?”

                As Altair reached the gate, Abbas appeared in front of him, seemingly shocked. “What has happened here?” He questioned.

                “Our Mentor deceived us all. The Templars corrupted him.” Altair answered.

                Abbas glared at him suspiciously. “Where is your proof?”

                “Walk with me, Abbas, and I will explain.” Altair replied and continued on.

                 “And if I find your answers wanting?”

                Altair looked to the assassin. “I will talk until you are satisfied.”

                “Do you remember the artifact we recovered form Robert de Sable in Solomon’s Temple?”

                “The artifact you were sent to retrieve, but others delivered?”

                “Yes,” Altair said ignoring the barb. “It is a Templar tool, the Apple of Eden. It can conjure illusions and control men’s minds. A deadly weapon.”

                “And you believe Al Mualim fell under its spell?”

                “I do. Today he used the Apple to enslave Masyaf. You saw that for yourself.”

                “I do not know what I saw.” Abbas denied.

                “Listen, Abbas. The Apple is safe in Al Mualim’s study. When I am finished here, I will show you all I know.”

                As they reached the pyre, Altair placed the body on the pile. He retrieved the nearby torch and began to set the wood a blaze.

                “Altair! No!” Abbas cried.

                “I must know that he cannot return.” Altair said.

                “But this is not our way! To burn a man’s body is forbidden!”

                The crowd at the bottom of the cliff began to protest. “Defiler!” one of them shouted.

                Altair moved around the pyre to address them directly. “Hear me out! This body could be another one Al Mualim’s phantoms. I must be certain!” He said attempting to reassure them.

                “Lies!” Abbas shouted. He stomped up to Altair. “All your life you have made a mockery of our Creed! You bend the rules to suit your whims, while belittling and humiliating those around you!”

                “Restrain him!” Someone called.

                “Did you not hear him?” Another spoke. “Al Mualim is bewitched!”

                Abbas’s anger suddenly overcame him and he lunged at Altair, pushing him over the cliff. Altair cried out as he landed in the dirt. A white-hot pain shot through his arm and the breath was knocked out of him. Abbas turned and ran for the castle.

                Chaos ensued as brother began t turn on brother, some believing Altair and others, Abbas. Altair got to his feet as assassins surrounded him. One attacked and he quickly disarmed him. He gazed at Altair fearfully before running off. It went on like that for a moment as more challenged him. Nothing but a pile of sword grew at his feet. A shout from a guard toward drew everyone’s attention.

                “What did I tell you, Altair?”

                Altair’s eyes grew wide at the object held in Abbas’s hands. “Abbas, stop!” he pleaded.

                “What did you think would happen when you murdered our beloved mentor?” Abbas cried. The Apple began to glow brighter as it fed off his anger and hatred.

                “You loved Al Mualim less than anyone. You blamed him for all your misfortune, even your father’s suicide!” Altair yelled back.

                Abbas’s fury grew. “My father was a hero!” He spat.

                “This is not the time to quarrel over the past.” Altair attempted to reason, “We must decide what to do with that weapon!”

                “Whatever this artifact is capable of, you are not worthy to wield it.”

                “No man is!”

                Abbas’s gaze shifted to the Apple and his eyes filled with lust. “Ah, it is beautiful, is it not?” He spoke in awe.

                The Apple grew brighter and those on the ground began to shrink away. Abbas’s awe was soon replaced with horror as a line of light connected to his mind. He cried out as the energy began to drain him of his life and rippled outward. It swept over the mountain, bringing everyone but Altair to the ground.

                Acting quickly, Altair ran to some scaffolding and began to climb. If he didn’t get to Abbas soon, the Apple would surely kill him. Pain coursed through him by the next wave, but he continued. He reached the tower and ascended, his hands and feet automatically finding leverage in the stone. Wave after wave crashed over him but he persisted. The most resent nearly caused him to lose his footing but he managed to pull himself up and over the railing. He picked up the Apple that had fallen form Abbas’s hands and it immediately quieted down.  

                “F-forgive me… I did not know…” Abbas begged as his body twitched.

                Altair stared at him for a moment before looking to the orb. “Have you anything to teach us? Or will you lead us all to ruin?” He asked it quietly. I dimmed in response. Altair sighed before placing it safely in his belt.


	3. A Vision Inspired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have stuck as close to cannon as possible, but obviously I've changed somethings. The time Altair and Maria were married is one of them.

Limassol, Cyprus

1192

                Altair tossed and turned in his sleep as dreams assaulted his mind. On a table, next to his bed, the Apple glowed softly.

  _The tomb was cut straight out of the rock with paintings and hieroglyphics etched into the walls. There were mummified animals, dried food, gold, and other trinkets surrounding the sarcophagus in the center. The lid depicted the countenance of a man with green skin and a long goatee. He wore a headdress and held a crook and flail in his hands. A woman stood before the sarcophagus with her head bowed. In her hands, she held an ankh, a cross with a loop at the top. A chain ran through the loop and wrapped around her hands. A tear ran down her cheek and dripped onto the golden charm._

_“Mother,” a voice sounded behind her. She didn’t turn. The young man removed his falcon headdress. “Uncle is suspicious. We must do this now if we are to succeed.”_

_“Have faith, Horus.” She whispered to her beloved son. “For soon, we shall all be together again.” She raised the ankh, which had grown hot._

_A light penetrated the dark of the tomb from the inside of the sarcophagus and the lid shifted._

* * *

 

_The tomb now showed years of neglect as Roman plunderers looted through it. One of them picked up a dusty, golden ankh on a chain and slipped it into his pouch._

* * *

 

_A Roman stood on the deck of a ship as its crew ran around frantic. A cloth wrapped scepter and a golden necklace rested safely in his hands. One of the crew stopped in front of him. “Sir, we’ve taken on water. We must abandon ship!” He stated. Lugos stared at the young man before nodding._

_“Very well, prepare the life boats.” The young man began to shout out orders as Lugos turned to the necklace in his hand. It glowed as he began to record his message._

* * *

 

_The Aleman assassin stood waiting, hoping his cousin would come swiftly. “Accipiter.” Accipiter turned to see another assassin had entered his tent._

_“Aquilus, come.” He gestured as he moved to his desk. He pulled out a box and opened it. Inside, still on its chain, sat the ankh. “Take this.” He said placing it on Aquilus’s palm. “It must not fall into the wrong hands.”_

* * *

 

_Valeria screamed as a guard slit her husband’s throat. The guard didn’t live long as an arrow from Accipiter’s bow pierced his eye._

_As Accipiter wrapped up Aquilus’s body, Valeria searched through the dead guard’s pockets until she found it. She slipped the artifact around her neck and the babe in her womb kicked._

* * *

 

_Altair stood before the Apple in the garden as it projected an image of the globe. “What is it?” Malik asked softly._

_“The World.” Altair answered._

_The image zoomed in on Europe where a speck of light sparkled._

* * *

 

_For a moment, Altair was standing on the docks of Limassol, watching workers go about their business, when he suddenly flying over the water. He sped past mountains, trees, and rivers before he came to rest over a town somewhere in England. He floated over a castle with a large court yard, surrounded by a wall and moat. A voice on the wind called his name as the vision faded._

                Altair jerked awake, sweat covered his body like a second skin. Maria lay next to him, undisturbed. He gazed at the Apple as its light faded. Why had it given him this vision? He hadn’t even been touching it.

                Altair removed the sheets and went to his desk. The Apple wanted something from him, that much was certain. What? He didn’t know, but he was going to figure it out. He lit some candles, sat down, and began to sketch.

* * *

 

A few weeks later…

                “Are you ever going to tell me what has caught your attention so thoroughly?” Maria asked standing in front of the desk, her arms crossed.

                “Maria, what do you know of the Ankh of Isis?” Altair inquired.

                She shrugged. “That it is just a legend.”

                “Humor me.”

                Maria sighed. “It was used by the goddess Isis to resurrect her dead husband for a single night.”

                Altair nodded. “Yes, and did you know that Isis was a descendant of one of the Ones that Came Before?”

                Maria blinked in surprise, her arms dropped to her sides. “Are you serious?”

                “A few weeks ago, the Apple gave me a vision. In it, I saw Isis standing before Osiris’s sarcophagus with her son, Horus. She was attempting to raise him again. She had a feel of the Ones that Came Before.”

                “You think the Ankh is a Piece of Eden?”

                “I know it is.” Altair replied with conviction. “And, I believe I know where to find it.”

                “What?” Maria exclaimed.

                “Look,” Altair shifted through the papers and scrolls of his desk, bringing a few to the top. “There are hundreds of hieroglyphics that depict Isis in possession of the Ankh but it was said to have been lost with the civilization, until it was rediscovered by the Romans.”

                “How do you know this?” Maria asked placing her hands on the desk.

                “The Apple showed me its journey.” Altair replied pulling out more papers. “It changed hands a few times before it came into the procession of an assassin named Accipiter around 259 C.E. He was an Aleman general that led them in battle across Gaul. He eventually gave the artifact to his cousin, Aquilus, who was a Gallo-Roman assassin.

                “Aquilus, however, was killed by Roman soldiers and the Ankh was obtained by his wife Valeria, who was with child.”

                “What happened to it after that?” Maria questioned.

                “No one knows, it disappeared from written history.”

                “Then how do you know where it is?”

                Altair pulled out a map. “This is a map of the world.”

                Maria blinked in surprise. “But how can that be? Some of these lands don’t exist.”

                “Not yet,” Altair said. “This is a map of the world as it is, not as we know it. I suspect that these land masses have yet to be discovered, or rediscovered as it were. This is what the Apple showed me after I defeated Al Mualim and these,” he pointed to various markings on the map. “These represent a Piece of Eden.”

                Maria leaned closer to study it. “There are so many. How do you know which one is the Ankh?”

                Altair pointed to one marker set in Europe. “England?” Maria said. “Where in England?”

                “During the vision, I found myself soaring over land and sea to rest here.” Altair presented her a sketch of a castle with a court yard, high walls, and a moat. A town surrounded by a large expanse od woods.

                “That is Nottingham.” She said recognizing the castle. “It’s just North of my birthplace.”

                “Do you know it well?”

                “I’ve been there a few times but we may need a guide.”

                Altair gazed up at her, “We?”

                Maria placed her hands on her hips. “Of course, ‘we’, I’m coming with you. We’ve been married for over a month. There is no way in hell you’re leaving me behind.” She stated with a glare.

                Altair smiled and stood, placing his hands around his wife’s waist. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said before placing a kiss on her forehead.

                “Well good,” Maria said. “If you had, I would have kicked you out of the bed.”

                Altair chuckled.

                “So, when do we leave?”

                “Three days,” Altair replied. “That should be enough time to inform Malik and gather the necessary supplies.”

                “Good,” Maria said smiling. “I’ve seen your home, my love, and soon you shall see mine.”


End file.
